What If This Storm Ends?
by Caffrey Dreams
Summary: The exchange of sideways glances across rooms had existed long before that night in Dublin, but there was something different in Darren's gaze now, in those fleeting moments when their eyes would lock. CrissColfer. Rated T for drug use.


**What If This Storm Ends? **

_Set after Glee Live 2011. I started writing this because I had a block with my Klaine fic "Only Time". I may or may not write another part of this at some point so I'm setting it as compleate because I really don't know if that will ever happen. Usual disclaimers I am only using Chris and Darren as characters to feed the angst in my brain, and I suppose warnings are in order for drug use._

* * *

They had worked together for over a year and a half now and it had been almost a year since that night in Dublin.

The tension had always been there and the tension would always be there Chris knew that.

Nothing had changed in there day to day lives once they arrived back from their summer break once the tour was over. Things hand drifted back into the way they had always been. They were comfortable with each other and were best friends.

Chris had some of the best friends anyone could wish for since he began working on Glee; but there was one thing about the way they fit together, understanding each other, in a way no one else ever did.

There was just something about Chris and Darren that connected them.

The exchange of sideways glances across rooms had existed long before that night in Dublin but there was something different in Darren's gaze now, in these fleeting moments when their eyes would lock.

There was a connection in their locked eyes that sent a buzz humming through Chris' body. His pulse would become loud in his ears; in that moment his muscles would lock and a thrill down his spine would send waves of shivers over his skin leaving goosebumps in their wake.

Chris could feel things were changing again.

It was like the heat of a summer storm. The pressure builds and builds and the never ending heat sucked the air from your lungs. Then the thunder would hit; building to a crescendo when the lightning would spark sending forks of light through the blackened sky. Finally it would come to the high; the moment of intensity that was blinding.

Then it would drop as the thunder and lightning would pass over, moving on to pray on another town somewhere far beyond the horizon and you would be left with rain that pounded down on the earth so loud across every surface for miles around drowning out all other noise as it beat down hard. The smell of new earth would be left in the wake of the storm as is cleaned out the destruction that it eternally followed.

Sitting on the fire escape of Darren's apartment stops making sense after a while once the air begins to change. The fall air twists around them and it leaves Chris shuddering with a tingle down his spine.

Chris is twenty one now and feels like he is waiting for more. He has so many things he could never dream of but he feels like there is something missing, something different, like he must keep waiting though he doesn't know what for.

Darren pulls out a tin box then and flips it open where he begins delicately pulling apart buds of green and laying them into a white paper. Chris can only watch with a certain kind of fascination at the way Darren's calloused fingers work nimbly with the herb spreading it evenly across the rice paper and rolling the paper up before licking a strip with the point of his tongue and twisting the end sharply.

The flick of Darren's wrist pulls Chris from his haze where he had been so focused concentrating on Darren's fingers. Their eyes meet in a silent agreement, an acknowledgement, though Chris doesn't quite know what he is agreeing to in that moment.

The scratch of the lighter wheel draws Chris's eyes and the flicker of the flame bursting into light before catching onto the joint. His eyes widen watching the dark bright end come to life. Darren draws the roach between his lips dancing it across his bottom lip as he inhales, eyes never leaving Chris'.

The inhale was short but still Darren's eyes never moved as he held the breath for what seemed, to Chris's eyes, to last an eternity. This would be the first of many more moments that would stretch across lifetimes and into the great beyond.

When it seemed like the shorter man was never going to exhale again it finally came; the gentle slow out breath that sent wisps of blue gray smoke into the sky as they caught with the fall breeze dragging upwards across the rooftops of the city, slowly dispersing until there was no trace left.

Chris wondered in that moment, as his eyes followed the smokes path, whether people were like that smoke once they died; slowly the evidence of their life would dissipate as the world continued moving; never stopping, never pausing, in the moment you cease to exit.

The feeling of the dissipation of life, like the smoke in that moment, is something Chris will never truly understand until much later.

"C'mere"

Darren whispers after sucking in a breath of clean fresh air with his eyes closed. When Darren's eyes reopen they catch Chris's once more, a silent exchange of two people who know each other better than they know themselves but never truly understand the things they know.

That's the way things had always been between Chris and Darren. No secrets, never secrets, always knowing but never quite understanding the deeper layers beneath the meaning.

Now, they don't need words. Fleeting glances and long hard looks replace the words. They are both artists in their own respect; using words to shape and draw. Yet between them words are too much but aren't nearly enough.

Chris slowly moved towards Darren in a trance like state. They had come this close before; more nights a week than not they would end up in one or the others apartment falling asleep curled together as a movie played on in the background, waking up the next morning to aches from sleeping curled up on the sofa but having slept so much better than if they were alone.

It was a small price to pay, Chris thought.

Yet Darren was encouraging Chris even closer now; tugging by the hem of his shirt so they were almost face to face. They had only been this close twice (if you discounted the times Kurt and Blaine had been this close) and this time is felt different.

The first time had been a shock to Chris, something that was over before his brain had caught up, in front of thousands of people in a crowded arena. The second time had been just hours later in a hotel room in Dublin.

Neither of them had spoken about the second time after Chris had awoken in an empty bed, the space beside him cold.

Darren didn't leave go of Chris's shirt once he was close enough but he moved the joint to his lips only just passing into them but ensuring it was held tightly. This time Darren closed his eyes as he took a drag but opened them as soon as he had finished inhaling.

That silent consent and agreement passed between their eyes once more and Darren leaned in pressing his lips to Chris's. His blue eyes widened unnaturally in shock at the feel of Darren's chapped lips against his own.

Like the first time, and the second time, the third time Chris quickly got over the shock quickly and he melted against Darren's taught chest. Soon Darren's mouth was moving as though coaxing Chris's mouth open and the younger man complied, but he had forgotten the smoke as Darren seemed to push it into Chris's mouth.

It was warm and dry and a little sweet but Chris couldn't tell where the taste of Darren ended and the smoke began. Darren swirled his tongue into his mouth, pushing the smoke as he tongue explored his mouth but Chris fought back in a dance. The smoke waxed and waned between them as they fought for dominance.

Too soon Darren pulled back with a smile dancing in his eyes. Chris only felt a little light headed from lack of clean new oxygen and he gulped it down.

They said nothing for too long, the silence between them may be heavy but neither man felt uncomfortable. The weight was like a comforting pressure on Chris's mind and heart. The warmth the third time was less rushed and desperate than the first and second time. It was nice, Chris thought.

This was the moment that the pressure of the incoming storm broke through the atmosphere.

Darren holds the joint in between his fingers almost experimentally as he watches it. If it wasn't a joint between his fingers you might almost think he was inspecting an antique like an old antiquities dealer trying to put a date to a piece. He appeared to be testing it, the way he carefully rolled it between the pads of his fingers.

Darren takes another inhale, deeper than the first but shallower than the second. Chris feels like his life is turning into lists of times now. There is never just that one time anymore. There is always a second and third after every first. There are a lot of thirds tonight. But before another third there must be a second.

Darren holds this breath for mere milliseconds before he is pressing his lips to Chris's and coxing them open before exhaling softly into the younger man's mouth, passing the smoke for a second time.

There would be another second that night when the heavy calm begins to sink over them.

There is what feels like a gentle hum thrumming through Chris which he soon identifies to be his pulse amplified as though wanting to make itself known, to remind Chris that it's there, although, later that concept will make little sense.

The blue eyed boy knows little of how the high is supposed to make him feel beyond the idea that he should be relaxed. But the feeling that surprises him the most is that he feels more grounded, more real. He feels a sense of awareness that he had never experienced before although a haze covering the world had been removed, though replaced with a different one.


End file.
